" "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. . Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. Well, if she survives the accident—as the blood, who styles himself Sir Cecil, fancies she may do—this ring will make my fortune by leading to the discovery of the chief parties concerned in this strange affair. She was given a glimpse of his soul. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. And why, after all, should she not borrow money from Ramage? It was so true what he said; middle-class people WERE ridiculously squeamish about money.
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